by Steven Croft
‘How old is it?’ said Sam, taking the cup and holding it to his nose.
‘The vineyard has been here for twenty-five times five-score years,’ said Sarah, almost singing with the joy in her voice. ‘For the first five hundred years, there were hardly any grapes. Despite all the care you see around you, the owner failed to produce a harvest. But for the last two thousand years, the wine each season has been the same: rich and deep, bringing joy.’
Silently, Sam again raised the cup to his lips and breathed in the fragrance of the vineyard. His mind was filled with images of light and summer. He sipped and let the wine slip over his tongue. His whole body was for a moment perfectly still, focused on the joy and sheer life poured into the cup of wine. Never again, he knew, would he taste such a vintage, however long he searched. Never again in his life, he knew, would he drink wine and not remember this moment.
Alice also tasted the wine – just the tiniest sip. She too recognised the moment as special though she had nothing to compare it with. A curious kind of warm, tingling happiness spread out from her tongue over her whole body, reaching in moments to the top of her head and to the tips of her fingers and toes. Somehow, she was more alive than when she awoke this morning. There was joy bubbling up within.
Abraham and Sarah drank also – the four of them in silence, savouring the moment.
Eventually, Sam broke the silence.
‘What happened two thousand years ago?’ he said. ‘What did the owner do to produce this kind of wine?’
Abraham and Sarah looked at each other, long and silently. There was a strange mix of sadness and of wonder in their eyes and in Abraham’s voice as he gave the answer.
‘He sent his son.’
When they talked later on, those were the last words either of them remembered from the table in the vineyard. The taste of the wine lingered for the rest of the day. Sam woke up a few minutes later, to his great surprise in the corner of the stockroom. Tizzy had come to look for him. The coast was clear, at least for today. Alice woke on her bed after the deepest sleep she could ever remember and tiptoed downstairs to the front room.
The fourth door on the calendar was open now. It was tall and brown and made of wood, arched at the top. Inside the door, carved in wood relief and painted the deepest red, was a miniature bunch of grapes still attached to the branch of the vine.
5 December
The next day, Alice sat at the back of the biology class in between Alex and Suzie, yawning every three minutes. No matter how hard she tried, her eyelids kept closing. Neither of her friends could understand it. Alice had been dozing off in corners all day long with a gentle smile on her face. At first they thought she’d stayed up until the early hours reading or chatting on-line. According to Alice, she had been in bed well before seven. Whatever the explanation, she was in no shape to face Miss Newton, so Suzie sat on one side with Alex on the other. Whenever her eyelids drooped even a little, one or the other of them would poke her with a pencil or kick her under the table. Alice already had a row of purple bruises down her left shin.
‘Ouch!’ she cried, when Miss Newton’s back was turned. ‘Watch it, Suzie. That really hurt.’
‘Just keep your eyes open then, dopey,’ Suzie hissed in a very upper-class way as the teacher looked in their direction, leering at them over the top of her spectacles. ‘You’re on the brink of triple detention as it is.’
‘And the answer to the second question down on page 42 is…?’ Miss Newton’s shrill voice hung in the air. This was her favourite gambit. There would be five seconds’ silence and then she would select the name of her least favourite pupil that afternoon, demanding an answer. If the chosen one stammered out a reply, all well and good. If he or she failed the test, Miss Newton would fix them with one of her beady eyes just like a bird of prey. Then, in a fraction of a second, she would swoop down from the other side of the classroom, push her face within inches of yours and screech the answer in loud, mocking tones.
Suzie and Alex both knew that this time it would be Alice. There had been tell-tale signs all through the lesson. In a last brave attempt to rescue his friend, under the eye of the teacher, Alex flicked the ear of the student on the row in front. As he expected, it was enough:
‘Alexander Buchanan.’
‘Yes, Miss Newton?’
Alex winced as the teacher’s malodorous breath descended on the back row. Alice gagged and came fully awake.
‘The answer to the second question on page 42 is?’
Just in time, Alex caught sight of Mandy Braithwaite mouthing the answer behind the Newtron’s back.
‘Carbon dioxide?’ he muttered, weakly.
Miss Newton stalked away, looking disappointed, the vulture deprived of her prey. She turned away and spoke crisply to the class, clipping her words. ‘Carbon dioxide – correct this time,’ she said. ‘Now, pay attention – all of you. That includes you, Miss Carroll.’
‘We start a new topic tomorrow. Homework is advanced reading of Chapter Five: “Origins of the Universe”. End of lesson.’
The bell sounded for the final time that day. Alex, Suzie and Alice bolted from the classroom. ‘Thanks, you two,’ yawned Alice. ‘Sorry to be so dopey today.’
‘Maybe you’re catching something,’ said Suzie, hope rising. ‘You might get the day off school tomorrow!’
‘No fear,’ said Alice. ‘You have to be really sick before you get a day off in our house. I think it was something I ate – or maybe drank – last night.’ She seemed suspiciously cheerful about it all.
Alice was on the point of saying something about the calendar when the two friends had to go. She made her way to the bus stop, biology text in hand. ‘It’s not that the subject is so bad really,’ she thought later, pressing her face against the bus window and looking out into the winter sunshine. ‘It’s just that Miss Newton has a special gift for making interesting things dull.’ As the line of traffic crept past the park gates, she looked and wondered and thought that the world really was very beautiful – even the ordinary things – at least the parts that she could see.
Megs was home. Wednesday was her half-day. No sign of any message from Sam. In the hall, Alice saw a bright red brolly and some red Wellington boots. ‘Josie,’ she thought, instantly. ‘What’s she doing here?’
‘I have to see him, Megs, I just have to,’ Josie was saying as Alice walked down the passage to the kitchen. ‘I’ve left him messages; I’ve been emailing him for the last week. Nothing.’
‘Are you sure about the test?’
Alice slowed down a bit. Josie was crying and Megs was giving her a cuddle, back to the door.
‘Sure as I can be,’ Josie said, then her tone changed to cheerful and she wiped her eyes. ‘Oh. Hi, er, Alice! Good to see you.’ She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand as she disentangled herself from Megs.
‘Hi, darling,’ said Megs. ‘Had a good day?’
Megs was making all kinds of weird facial gestures to Alice from behind Josie, trying to make her go away. Alice was having none of it. She hadn’t seen Josie for ages and she liked her a lot. Sam was a total nerd to give her up.
‘Whassup, Josie? Here to see Sam?’
‘You bet,’ said Josie, rubbing her eyes. ‘We need to talk. Grown-up stuff.’
Alice knew when she wasn’t wanted. By this time she had milk and biscuits sorted and she was making herself really comfortable at the kitchen table. Megs and Josie exchanged looks.
‘I was just going to put the kettle on,’ said Megs, eyes again flashing daggers behind Josie’s back.
Just then the phone rang.
‘Could that be Sam?’ asked Josie, voice trembling.
‘Doubt it,’ said Meg. ‘Never rings here during the day. Never rings here at all really. Just comes and goes when he feels like it. Probably double-glazing again.�
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Just as Megs reached out to pick up the phone, it stopped ringing. They heard Alice on the cordless extension in the hall, moving into the lounge. ‘Oh, hi Suzie, just a minute’ – she came back and closed the kitchen door. ‘Private!’ she mouthed to Megs, tapping her nose, phone pressed to her ear.
‘Sam – you’ll never guess who’s here,’ she whispered. ‘It’s Josie. She’s sitting in the kitchen with Megs.’
‘Walloping warthogs,’ said Sam. ‘What’s she doing there?’
‘She looks upset – kept going on about some kind of test.’
‘Weird,’ said Sam. ‘I’ll hang around out here for a bit then.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Just parking the car in the back lane. How’s the calendar?’
Alice went to look.
‘New door. Right-hand side near the bottom. Looks like a folding leather blind of some kind. Have you got the code?’
‘It just came through as I was driving home. Punch it in, then meet me in the back garden. I’m almost there.’
‘What is it, dummy? Quick, Mum’s coming.’ Alice heard the kitchen door open again. ‘Are you sure that’s Suzie on the phone, my love?’ Surely she hadn’t listened in on the extension? Alice didn’t think Megs was that sneaky but you never knew. Lots of things happened at once in the next ten seconds.
Sam gave her the code: four, zero, colon, two, two. Alice cut off the call as her mum came into the room and peered deliberately at the calendar. As soon as Megs’ back was turned, she punched in the numbers. Megs brought Josie back into the room. ‘Alice, you go and do your homework in your room, will you?. Josie and I need to sit in here for a while.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Alice saw the leather blind beginning to move to one side. A tiny strip of blue began to appear in the doorway. She flew past Megs and Josie, through the kitchen and out into the long back garden, hoping to meet Sam coming in at the back gate. Down the garden, past the swing and the great yew hedge and…
There was Sam, all right, by the back gate, mouth open like a bulldozer. Alice stopped in her tracks.
Standing in front of Sam, as still as statues, facing each other were two magnificent golden eagles. Each was as tall as the back door. The top of their heads was the same height as the shrubs which surrounded the garden. The rich golden brown of their feathers stood out against the greys and greens of the winter landscape. They carried, as eagles do, an enormous sense of dignity, even on the ground. The great birds were plainly aware of Alice and Sam: neither afraid of them nor looking down on them – just kind of there.
Alice and Sam took a long look at each other, then at the eagles, then back at each other. Sam shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows: ‘What do we do now?’ Alice took a step towards him. As she moved her foot forward, the eagle on her left bowed towards her. The eagle on the right did the same to Sam. Alice and Sam, together, instinctively bowed back, each to a different eagle. Alice’s bird then lowered her body gracefully to ground level. Alice followed her cue and moved two paces nearer. The eagle on the other side of the path mirrored his companion. As Alice moved a step closer still, her eagle fixed her with one eye, lowered her right wing and, with her beak, motioned to Alice to climb onto her back.
With the utmost care, Alice stepped forward and around to the back of the bird. She tried not to think about the sharp beak and the powerful talons buried under the feathered body. Half closing her eyes, she climbed onto the bird’s golden back, face buried in its neck, legs extended on each side. There was a powerful, warm smell unlike anything she had experienced before. The bird reached behind with its bill, gently coaxed Alice into the best position, and then began to stand. On the other side of the garden, Alice could see Sam finding a similar position. His hands gripped tight to the eagle’s neck feathers and his eyes were screwed shut. Sam hated heights.
With one graceful unfurling movement, both eagles stood tall, spread their wings and in a moment were in the air. Alice’s stomach leapt into her mouth on take-off, then in a moment, settled again. The eagles flew together, immense wings beating, for a matter of minutes, gaining height, searching for something. Sam’s eagle found the up-draught of warm air first. Alice saw the great bird simply spread his wings and begin to glide on the thermal current up and around in great circles. A moment later, the second eagle did the same.
Sam, she noticed, had opened his eyes but still gripped his eagle tightly with both hands and knees. Alice tried to relax both and found that she felt just as safe. The eagle’s feathers were soft and warm. She found she could sit up and see in all directions. There was a gentle breeze on her face, blowing back her hair. The air smelt clean and fresh. Down below her was the garden and the house with the wide curve of the main road. The eagles were taking a broad sweep over their part of town. Alice saw the detached house where Suzie lived and the school in the distance. At this height she could still hear the traffic noise.
On the second circuit they went higher still. There was hardly any sound now. She could see the shape of the roads, like looking down on an oversize living map. She saw the market-place with the parish church just behind it; the high street; the new shopping centre. Even at this height, the green spaces stood out most clearly: the school playing fields and the parks around the town. Round again and higher. Now, only the sound of an ambulance reached them. Alice followed its white roof as far as the hospital on the hill. The people were just dots moving on the streets, the cars simply coloured shapes, queuing at the roundabouts, moving freely on the major roads.
Still the eagles climbed, occasionally coming close enough for Alice and Sam to exchange a few words, to shout and point. ‘There’s the station. See the train coming in?’ The two train lines led away from the stations at each end of the town and away towards London. ‘Over there,’ Alice called, ‘you can see the city.’ The centre of London was now clearly in view. She could pick out the Gherkin and St Paul’s. The thin blue ribbon of the Thames sparkled in the winter sunshine. A familiar skyline – the strangest of angles.
Looking beyond the city centre Sam smiled as he saw the entire ring of the M25. Two-thirds of it was solid traffic – thousands of cars in a pointless procession. This, he thought, was what it must be like to fly in a hot-air balloon: silent, gliding, still. But no balloon could match the beauty and symmetry of the eagles’ wings spread out on each side, tips extended to the furthest horizon, steering upwards with the gentlest of movements.
Neither Sam nor Alice could remember later feeling cold during the flight. It was as though the eagles each radiated warmth and life. There was no need on this journey for blankets or even for oxygen. Higher and higher they went, carried by the thermals. The gentle breeze had now become a steady wind. Alice had to lean into it as her eagle turned to stay balanced. Sam said later that this part was like riding pillion on a motorbike, riding into the bends. He pointed now to his left to where the line of the river met the sea. As they climbed still higher, they could see the shape of the coastline beginning to emerge. It was then that Alice noticed for the first time that if she concentrated hard on any part of the scene below her, she saw it with the eagle’s own power of sight. She looked straight down and still she could see her own part of the city, her own street, her own back garden, her own bedroom window. She looked harder and could see the school playground – even the caretaker locking the gates as the last of the teachers left. A tiny Miss Newton walked to her car after the staff meeting. Sam had picked out the office where he worked and was pointing, but the wind was so loud in her ears now she could no longer hear what he said.
Still the eagles climbed. The south of England was spread out below them now like a quilt: dark patches were cities and towns separated by square fields connected by e tiny roads and railway lines. Higher still and the view was more like a weather map – the clouds were below them. Planes criss-crossed the skies, circling in
huge patterns around Gatwick and Heathrow. A couple of helicopters buzzed across London. There was a weather front coming in from the north-west. The eagles rode through a cloud, and Alice’s clothes and face were suddenly soaked. Sam waved and pointed to the east. In the distance, Alice could see the place where day met night out across the ocean, moving towards them as the earth turned. From this height the horizon was a circle now extending all around them for hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of miles.
The great birds reached the top of the thermal. Both Alice and Sam held on a little tighter as they beat their wings again, carrying them forward on the very borders between earth and space. The familiar shapes of the British Isles and Europe were spread out like a carpet below them. Endless blackness stretched above them. To the east again, away from the setting sun, the stars came into view clearer than Alice had ever seen. For a few moments at the very highest point of the flight, the winds dropped and there was complete silence. For the first part of the journey, Alice had been caught up in the detail: seeing everything from a new perspective. Now both she and Sam simply sat back and wondered at the earth and the skies spread out before them, drinking in the sense of space and size and order. Alice wanted to cry out but she had no words for what she felt.
Then the eagles turned, reaching the edge of the atmosphere, gliding but now down again in gentle, wide circles as the journey was reversed. The broad features of the land came into view first: the coasts and hills and forests and rivers; then the cities and towns; then the individual streets and houses; then the cars. Alice was surprised at how close to the earth’s surface she had to come before she caught again the first sound of the traffic moving in the rush hour, the trains from the main-line station heading for the North, the helicopters on traffic patrol over the M25.
Now with each vast, gentle circle, the familiar sites came nearer, rushing to meet her like old friends. The roof of her own house was there, her bedroom window, one of the neighbours in his garden. No one looked up. The eagles swooped in low for the final time, clipping the tops of the trees and landing neatly exactly where they had begun, on either side of the garden gate. Alice and Sam slipped down from the back of the birds trembling with excitement. Both looked up into the sky, searching for the hidden pathways they had just explored. Then, together, they looked back at the creatures which had carried them so high. Both eagles bowed low to the ground. Sam and Alice bowed their heads in return in silent thanks and wonder. With a single, graceful movement, the birds stretched their wings and flew, this time away in the direction of the west and the setting sun.
